


Hell Kitties II: The Mindingo (Pay back's a Bitch)

by vamptastica, Xela



Series: Hell Kitties [3]
Category: Hello Kitty - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Crack, M/M, Prank Wars, Under-negotiated Kink, please do not underestimate the crack, sex war prank war, so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 11:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamptastica/pseuds/vamptastica, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xela/pseuds/Xela
Summary: Pay back's a bitch. And then you get revenge.





	Hell Kitties II: The Mindingo (Pay back's a Bitch)

**Author's Note:**

> Please to be not drinking or eating when reading this fic. Could be hazardous to your health. And your computer.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** We own...an apple, two clothes hangers, a broken scale that only goes to 10 and a wine opener between us. Oh, and more Hello Kitty knowledge than is healthy.

Sam was starting to get worried. Not gnawing-on-your-lip worried, or even glancing-at-Dean-all-the-time worried. Oh no. This was sleeping-with-one-eye-open worried, heading rapidly for total-mental-collapse-due-to-undue-stress-and-lack-of-sleep worried.

Two weeks on and Dean hadn't gotten him back for switching his manly, respectable guns with...pink and purple _Hello Kitty_ versions that made you think words like 'adorable' and 'cute' and 'precious.' Sam smiled briefly as he remembered that Dean hadn't been entirely silent on the issue. But after that...not a word, a single peep, not even a hint that it had ever happened. Dean went on as usual: joked with him, ragged on him, fucked him like nothing had happened.

So yeah. _Worried_ might not be the right word for it.

"Hey Sammy!" Dean called, interrupting Sam's reverie. He jingled his keys and bounced by the door. "There's a kid-eating elf in the next town over. Lives at the local candy store." He grinned at Sam, face open and filled with open exuberance, fully expecting Sam to share his excitement. "Dude, we can knock out a hunt AND pick up all the Twizzlers we can eat! How much do our lives ROCK?!"

Dean frowned as Sam gaped at him like a huge guppy, eyes hard and suspicious. "What?"

"Are you serious, Dean?" Sam scowled. This had to be the prank, HAD to be. Child-eating elves? In candy shops? Dean was slacking off.

"Hell yeah I'm serious! C'mon, Sammy, up and at em cowboy! We've got candy to save!" Dean slapped Sam's feet off the chair. This was gonna be so sweet. He could practically see the candy they'd get as a reward, falling like mana from heaven as Hooters girls danced in the background. Oh yeah...their lives were awesome.

Sam followed Dean out to the car suspiciously. He didn't buy it for a second. Dean was totally fucking with him—a child-eating _elf?_ Really?—and Sam was going to be prepared for anything and everything. He turned his attention back to Dean, who was spouting off facts about their case like he'd already been mainlining the hypothetical candy already.

“So I called Bobby, and he said holy water should kill the sunnuva bitch.” Dean slid on his sunglasses, turning a brilliant smile on Sam, slowing at a stoplight. “I stocked up in the last town.” Dean revved the engine and peeled out of the line with such enthusiasm Sam had to grab ahold of the oh shit handle.

“Really, Dean, this is beneath you,” Sam said, closing his eyes as they swerved around an old Buick. Dean had a nigh-impeccable driving record, but Sam's heart didn't appreciate or care about that. He choked back a whimper as they almost tapped the bumper of the car in front of them. Sam reminded himself that he had freaky mind powers that could save him—them—if necessary.

“What the hell are you talking about Sammy? It’s candy, it’s a monster, it’s our kinda job.” Dean kept his eyes on the road as he hit the gas harder, a small frown pulling at his lips. 

“Dude, I can totally tell when you’re lying. I know your poker face too well,” Sam said smugly. Oh yeah, he had Dean’s number all the way to the bank.

_Thwap._ Sam stared down at the folded newspaper in his lap.

“Does this look like a lie Sam?” Dean asked seriously.

Sam picked it up and skimmed the article about missing children and a local inquiry into...Wonka Willy's Wonderful World of Savory Sweets. This...could not be serious. The candy shop looked like an over decorated gingerbread house with a costume-clad _elf_ standing in front of it, scowling at the camera.

“...seriously?”

“Tis the season, Sammy!” Dean whooped with a grin. He drummed out a beat on the steering wheel and they roared through the small town, gaining speed. Sam had a second to brace himself, his life flashing before his eyes, as Dean threw the car into a controlled tail-spin, coming to rest inches away from the curb in front of the candy shop of interest.

“Kills the tires, but damn I look good,” Dean sighed happily.

Dean sprung out of the car and thumped on the roof calling, “Come on Sammy! we’ve got Gobstoppers and Laffy Taffy to liberate!” At the last second stuck his head back in the window. “And kids to save. You think they have cow tails?”

Sam couldn’t hold it back and he laughed out loud. His brother was a freak sometimes, but damn it was good to see him so upbeat and energized.

Dean had just popped open the trunk when a terrified scream came from the shop. Sam glanced at Dean, who jerked his head towards the store, message clear: go save the kid, I'm right behind you with the big guns. Sam pulled his Glock from the small of his back and took off towards the store, spurned on by another scream.

Sam burst through the puke-green door, momentarily disoriented by the smell of processed sugar and overwhelming chocolate. He followed the sounds of whimpering to the back room. “Freeze!”

The elf, just about to bite into the sobbing little boy clutched in his hands, was distracted by Sam's entrance. He was still wearing his green and red elf costume, but his eyes were black and his jaw unhinged, rows of sharp teeth sticking out. Sam drew a bead on the thing and thumbed off the safety.

“Let him go,” Sam commanded, steel in his voice. The elf-thing cocked his head to one side, and his jaw snapped back into place with an audible pop. His skin was yellowed, and his nails had lengthened into sharp claws. He looked like...like a mini-wendigo.

“Or what?” it rasped, tightening its grip around the child and making him whimper. The mini-creature growled in what was supposed to be a threatening manner and dropped the kid, advancing on Sam with its claws raised. He maybe came up to Sam's knee. Counting the pointy hat. “You'll shoot? Lead bullets with burning powder won't stop a mindigo!” It cackled and prepared to spring at Sam.

“No, but holy water will asshole.” Dean said from behind the creature, all Chuck Norris kick ass and take names calm. “Catch, Sammy.”

Sam slid his glock back into the back of his waist band and caught the holy water gun with a smirk on his face. Oh yeah, they were gonna kick this candy-cane striped fucktard all the way back to the north pole and there wasn’t a thing—“What the fuck, Dean?”

“You're going to kill me with... _that?”_ the mindigo asked, sounding insulted. Sam looked up and glared at his brother, ignoring the smiling kitty on the pink plastic gun. He KNEW this had been payback!

Dean turned slightly and Sam blinked, sure he was not seeing a two-gallon Hello Kitty supersoaker strapped to his brother's back. 

“I gave you the girly gun,” Dean said, pumped the water gun's action, and aimed it at the tiny mindigo.

“Please, have mercy!” the tiny creature shrieked, dropping to its knees. Its face morphed into the cute countenance of a benevolent elf. “See, Santa didn't love me anymore, so he kicked me out of the North Pole, and I'm just trying' to make a living!”

“By eating children?” Dean asked, looking down at its intended victim, curled into a ball and whimpering on the floor. The mindigo sniffed, glancing down at the crying, frightened child.

“They smell?” he offered feebly, a disingenuous grin on his face.

“That they do,” Dean agreed with a smile, then let the little fucker have it. The mindigo shrieked under the onslaught, steam rising from its skin where the holy water hit.

“I'm melting! Meeeeeeelting!” it cried, dissipating under the wrath of Dean's Hello Kitty water gun.

With a final shriek of horror and huge **POP** Sam suddenly found himself totally soaked to the skin with holy water, bits of evil elf and...was that a licorice twist?

“He was gonna eat me,” the fat kid they'd rescued whined. He pawed at Sam, getting snot on his shirt as he blubbered.

Dean looked at him and laughed. “Dude, you could lose a few inches.” Sam glared at him. “What? Look at the kid, Sam. Next time, I suggest walking PAST the candy store.” The kid glared at Dean and folded his arms across his chest.

“Dean!” Sam protested. The kid sniffed piteously and Sam glared at his brother, who just shrugged and looked unconcerned. Sam turned to him and crouched down, offering a non-threatening smile. “Hey, you know where your parents are?”

“I'm not stupid,” the kid said sullenly.

“Of course not,” Sam said placatingly. “Can you get home on your own?”

“If anyone attacks him, he could just sit on them,” Dean muttered.

“Yeah, I can,” the kid said with an evil smile. He pushed past Sam towards the door. “Thanks!”

“God fucking damn it!” Dean cursed, hopping on one leg. The stupid little shit kid had kicked him! Sam doubled over, laughing his ass off.

“K-k-karma's a bitch!” Sam cackled, his eyes shiny with tears of mirth. Dean's eyes narrowed, but Sam was too distracted by his laughter to read the warning signs.

“You know what Sam? You're absolutely right.” Dean calmly pumped up his gun, turned to Sam, and soaked him down—starting with his stupid smirking face and quickly soaking inch of Sam until he was doing his best impersonation of a drowned rat. Sam lunged for his brother, but slipped and went down hard. Dean emptied the entire reserve, almost a gallon of cold tap water sprayed on Sammy's body, making his shirt stick to his chest.

“You...you!”

“And your ass is walking back to the motel,” Dean said prissily. He flipped Sam the bird, tucked his pink Hello Kitty super soaker under his arm, and limped out to the car, leaving a thoroughly soaked (and somewhat squishy) Sam laying in a puddle.

“You forgot your candy, dumbass!!” Sam called after him, half expecting his brother to pop back in and say, “GOTCHA!!” A few moments passed, and the roar of the Impala could be heard...disappearing in the distance.

“DEAN???” Sam yelled moving fast over the scattered gum balls and jawbreakers strewn on the floor. Dean wouldn’t leave him here, they were a whole town away from their motel! But sure enough, as he got to the door, the Impala was disappearing down the street.

“Fuck,” Sam growled, glaring into the darkness. He threw back his head and screamed. “DEAN!” Muttering curses, dripping wet, and plotting his brother's imminent demise, Sam started walking back to the fucking motel. He'd go a couple of miles, then Dean would show up and give him a ride. That's what was going to happen.

After a couple of miles, his wet jeans started to chafe. His shoes squished when he walked, and his t-shirt left nothing to the imagination. Oh, there was so much payback in Dean's future, he wouldn't know what hit him.

He was so distracted by his thoughts of revenge that he didn't hear the group of girls that came up behind him until they were parting to go around him. He tried not to look like a drowned rat, smiling at them with his best dorky expression. The girls tittered amongst themselves, and Sam got the distinct impression they were laughing at him.

One girl, who smelt of alcohol, stumbled into him accidentally-on-purpose. 

“Oops!” she giggled, batting her eyelashes up at him. Her friends laughed, and one of them yelled at her to stop wasting time. Sam gently put her back on her feet, but she swayed into him conspiratorially. Against his better judgment, Sam leaned in to hear what she had to say. 

“Well I think it's cute,” she slurred, grinning at him. “Go get 'em, big boy!” Sam jerked when she slapped his ass and staggered off into her friend's waiting arms. What the hell...you know what? He didn't want to know. Fuck revenge, Dean was going to come pick him up RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.

He reached into his pocket to pull out his cell and growled loudly, making the girls jump and scurry away, when he saw water coming out the bottom of his now ruined razor. “God DAMMIT DEAN…you are SO dead!!”

He paused and looked around for a pay phone. The garish flash of a bar sign caught his attention; good a place as any to find a phone. Sam hoofed it across the street. Pistons. Huh, interesting name. He'd heard worse, and he didn't care as long as they had a pay phone. 

He almost hugged the blue metal box when he saw the phone, almost hidden by the shadows of the bar. Quarters only. OK. He dug through his pants, looking for change.

He had 45 cents in nickels and pennies. _Awesome._ Sam grit his teeth and banged his head against the pay phone.

“Oh, honey. Such a pretty little thing like you shouldn't be messing up that...head.” Sam turned around in time to catch a glimpse of a vision in red sequins wink at him, then disappear through the door and into the club. What—

“Hello, pretty kitty,” a deep voice rumbled. Sam spun around and looked...up. Jesus. He wasn't used to looking up at anyone, not since he was 17. This guy was massive, had a good three inches on him and was...dressed in leather. And _leering_ at him.

“My name’s Sacha. What’s yours, kitty-baby?” The Incredible Hulk asked, trailing one massive finger down the side of Sam's face. Sam wasn’t a small guy by any stretch of the imagination but really this guy? God gave him a double helping of huge when he made him. 

“Um...” Sam stuttered, jerking away from the touch. Sacha smiled at him, eyes traveling down Sam's might-as-well-be-nekkid torso. Sam resisted the urge to to cover himself like a demure virgin.

“We don't need names if you don't want, kitty-cat,” the man said, his voice dropping to impossibly low registers. Sam swallowed and tried to figure out how he could get out of this without getting killed or seriously maimed.

“I'm, I—it's just that...I'm a, uh, virgin,” Sam squeaked, then clapped a hand over his mouth. The Incredible Hulk froze and stared at him.

“You're shittin' me. With that kind of ink?” 

“I've been repre—ink?”

“You got one helluva kitty tat back there...kitty!” Sacha leered, running his hand down Sam's back.

“A kitty—fuck _me,_ ” Sam swore, then skittered away from Sacha. He looked like he might just take Sam up on the offer. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“This way, lover,” Sacha rumbled, grabbing Sam's arm in a surprisingly gentle grip and steering him towards the bar and through the thumping crowd. The bathroom door was marked 'studs.' Sacha tried to follow him in, but Sam quickly slammed it shut. He threw the lock and ripped off his t-shirt to get a close up look at the fucking HUGE tattoo on his back. How the _fuck_ had Dean managed to get a giant Hello kitty with WINGS on him? And was that a halo? He stared at his reflection in horror.

“You OK, Kitty?” Sacha called. Sam winced. “No need to be scared, Sacha will take good care of you. Promise.” Sam groaned, imagining the huge man outside running his fingers over the surface of his fake tattoo, whispering sweet nothings like a love sick teenage girl. 

“You know, I've got a Bambi tat. We could go somewhere, I could show you it...”

Sam, perhaps not in the best frame of mind to be making any sort of decision, made a snap judgment. He slipped his shirt back on, plastered on his dimpley-est grin, and opened the door. He looked up through his wet bangs at Sacha the Gigantic Biker and fluttered his eyelashes.

“Could you, maybe, ah, give me a ride back to my motel?” he asked a little breathlessly. Sacha's ginormous face stretched into a leer.

“Yeah, sugar. I can do that.” Sam grit his teeth when his oversized escort placed a possessive hand on his lower back, but reminded himself it was either this or walk. And if he was really, really lucky, Dean would feel the need to throw down in a jealous rage or protect Sam's honor—it was kind of a toss up, but Sam would really, really like to see that fight.

Though he felt kind of bad at playing Sacha. He took a second to marvel at the massive Harley parked outside. Sacha climbed on and patted the seat behind him. “Where to, kitty cat?” On second thought, Sam didn't feel bad at all.

“Um...” Sam sighed and resigned himself to wrapping his arms around Sacha for the duration.

The drive took about 20 minutes, during which Sam froze his ass off. Sacha must have been taking driving lessons from Dean, because Sam had to hold on for dear life or risk falling off. He plastered himself against Sacha's back and tried not to freak out. He was never so glad as when they pulled up to the Easy Lay Motel, door number 13. 

Sam put his hand on Sacha’s shoulder for balance, swinging his leg off the back of the bike. Sacha killed the loud engine and smiled at Sam expectantly. 

“Listen…,” Sam hedged, “there’s something— _OOMPH_.” Sam grunted as he was pulled forcibly into Sacha's hard body. Sacha's hands cupped his ass, and a wet tongue found its way into Sam's mouth. Sam whimpered as he was thoroughly molested in the middle of the parking lot. And Sacha was still straddling his damn bike.

Sam managed to stumble back, tripping over his feet and landing hard on his ass, getting dirt all over his wet clothes. Sacha set the bike on its kickstand and started shadowing Sam's movements, the two of them chasing each other around the bike.

“Here, kitty kitty!” Sacha said, grinning, making kissy noises with his giant lips. Sam tried to ignore the taste of him and concentrated on keeping away from his fucking enormous arm span.

“Look, Sacha, thanks for the ride and all, but I—”

“I think I've got cat-scratch fever, pretty kitty.” Sacha lunged for Sam, who danced back and slammed into the car next to him. He barely managed to get his bearings before Sasha was on him. “Oh yeah, you know 'zactly what yer doin'. Hard to get, like a fiesty tabby, meow!” His eyes were dark with lust. Oh God. Sam had to get out of this, right now, any way he could.

“I have the clap!” Sam heard his mouth say, and they both froze. Sacha eyed him up and down, then shrugged.

“That’s OK, kitten. I got condoms.”

Was this guy for real? Sam could darted around another car, trying to make a break for open road and safety, but Sacha was unbelievably mobile for being a giant and came flying over the trunk. He just managed to snag Sam's t-shirt and haul him up short, pressing him back against the car's trunk.

“Awww, kitty likes to play games, huh? Well that’s OK. We can play whatever you want, pretty, long as we play.”

Sam's heart was pounding so hard he was surprised it hadn't burst. This was the end of the line for him, he knew it with cold certainty. He could see the obit already: Hello Kitty freak dies of fright, man's cock up his ass. Bambi refused to be interviewed. Kitty is survived by no one. Depressing life. Though he could always use his freaky powers, but he'd promised Dean he wouldn't. Though why he was keeping promises to Dean when it was _his fault_ Sam was in this mess...

“You might want to watch the trunk on that car there, Tiny,” a hard voice warned. Sam abruptly realized he was pinned to the Impala, and sagged with relief. Dean was here. Dean would make it better. “If there’s even a scratch on her, I’ll fill your ass with hot lead before you can say kitty litter.”

“Sorry, buddy. My friend and I were getting a little carried away,” Sacha said. His look that would clue a five year old to what they were getting 'carried away' about. Dean arched an eyebrow, but didn't so much as look at Sam. He was acting like...he didn't know Sam. Like he had only come out to protect his car. Sam narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what game his brother was playing. He grew incensed when Dean glanced his way, his eyes dropping down to the giant hand on his chest and a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. Oh hell no.

No fuckin' way was Dean going to leave him hanging. Sam was wet, exhausted, _molested_ , and utterly ready for this night to be over. Dean did not get to do this. Sam slipped out from Shasha's hand and threw himself at Dean, babbling a mile a minute. Dean jerked away, but Sam wrapped his long arms around Dean's torso and held him still.

“Oh baby,” he cooed, fluttering his eyelashes and simpering. “It didn't mean anything, I wouldn't do that, not to you, please don't kill him!” Dean tried to shove Sam off, but Sam clung to him like a limpet.

“You know this guy, kitty?” Sacha asked, starting to grow angry and pulling himself to his full height. Dean stopped pushing Sam away and started to get nervous.

“Sorry, Sach,” Sam jumped in, letting his voice go a little high and flighty. “I didn't mean to lead you on, it's just...he's got issues.” Sam pulled the gun out of Dean's pants, who glared at him and lunged for it; Sam raised it up and kept it away from Den with a smirk. 

“Now Dean, what did you parole officer say about those anger issues?” Dean folded his arms across his chest and glared at Sam. Sam patted him on the head, like a dog. “That's right! Just count Hello Kitties until the homicidal rage goes away, my honey bunches of oats. Heart of my heart. Deany-weenie boo boo boo.” Dean growled, hands forming fists at his side, and started going through every evil thing he could do to Sammy with a toothpick and two paperclips.

Sacha edged nervously away from the two obviously unhinged people. He'd thought he'd found himself a decent one tonight; no one with a Hello Kitty tattoo could be that bad, right? He glanced at the gun. He hated guns. No reason for 'em, though the little one looked like he might try to rip Kitty's throat out with nothing but his teeth.

“Yeah, if you're going to—”

“Leave,” Dean commanded brusquely, eyes fixed on Sam with deadly intent.

“Kitty—”

“Thanks for the ride Sacha! I'm gonna get Dee-Dee tucked into bed.” Sam flashed a genuine smile at Sacha, who blinked under the force of it. “Sorry, man,” Sam said sincerely.

“Yeah.” Sacha glanced at the other man, who bared his teeth menacingly. Sacha gratefully got back on his bike and took off for saner areas.

“I swear to God, Sam,” Dean ground out through clenched teeth, “you will die for that. Painfully.” 

“What are you talking about, Dean?” Sam asked in his most charming tone. He pranced around his brother, deftly avoiding his angry hands. He poked one of Dean's most ticklish places with deadly accuracy, smirking at the undignified squeak Dean let out.

“Sam!” Dean warned, trying to dodge Sam's attacks. “Seriously, stop it!”“You left me next to a runny pile of melted mindigo,” Sam said, a manic smile pasted on his face.

“You _switched my guns with Hello Kitty!_ ” Dean roared.

“You put a giant Hello Kitty tattoo on my back!” Sam yelled back.

“PINK AND PURPLE, SAM!”

“SACHA THE HANDSY BIKER HULK WITH A BAMBI TATTOO, DEAN.” 

They looked at each other for a second.

“Alright then,” Dean said mildly, running his hand through his hair.

“I need a shower.”

They stomped back to the motel room in silence, tension thick between them.

“You do smell a ripe, little brother,” Dean said, offering an olive branch and patting Sam on the ass.

“Could that be the melted elf?” Sam asked sarcastically. He sniffed at him self and blanched. Sacha must have had an extraordinarily underdeveloped sense of smell. Dean smiled at him, one of his real smiles that made Sam's heart race and his body tighten. “Come with me _big_ brother?” Sam requested, running a hand suggestively down his chest. Dean followed the movement with hungry eyes.

“Mmm…you go ahead. I took one when I came back.” Dean said with a soft push towards the bathroom. He almost, almost caved when Sam flashed his puppy dog eyes. “I’ll be waiting when you get out.” 

“I’m keeping you to that,” Sam said, rubbing his crotch and making Dean gasp.

Dean watched Sam disappear into the bathroom, the door clicking closed. Time to move.

***  
Sam's hair was filled with soap when the loud shriek of the motel fire alarm sounded over the water. He quickly rinsed the suds and cursed as he climbed out of the tub. It was probably a false alarm, but they'd been in enough places to know it was a bad idea to ignore such things. He reached for a towel and frowned; the only towel in the whole place was a small hand towel. He could have sworn there were two full sized bath towels when he went in.

He grabbed the small rectangle of cloth and started wiping his skin; Dean wouldn't mind the show.

Sam froze when he got out the door. The room was bare. Both of the beds were stripped to the mattress. There were no pillows, no luggage. Even the curtains had been taken down.

The only available clothing option was a gigantic, very pink, very _happy_ Hello Kitty onesie, laid lovingly on the bed.

Oh HELL NO.

This alarm was all Dean's doing. His stupid idea of a joke, and Sam would not—the smell of smoke tickled Sam's nose. It grew stronger. He looked at the air vent and growled when he saw tendrils of grey creeping out of it and into the room. In a few minutes, he wouldn't be able to breathe.

**FUCKING DEAN.**

Sam played with the idea of tucking the material around him, but a Hello Kitty skirt/diaper was infinitely worse than the alternatives. Clenching his jaw, Sam slipped into the bottom half of the suit. Dean was never getting laid again.

Dean was waiting with a camera when he opened the door. 

Well. Sam figured he had one option, and one option only: suck it up and take it like a man. A man wearing a hood with kitty ears on it and footies with leather claws, but a man nonetheless. He didn't care that people were staring, or that he couldn’t zip the damn thing up. Or that he was pretty sure his entire crotch was outlined in a particularly lewd manner. Dean took one look at him and doubled over laughing; people naturally turned to stare.

“FINE, you wanted a show, you’re gonna get one!” Sam muttered to himself. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and literally _pranced_ out of the door, hands outstretched dramatically. “AAAAHHH! Save me, DEANIEEEEEEE!!!”

Dean choked, acutely aware that every eye was fixed on the two of them. Sam collapsed in his arms, sending Dean staggering backwards with the force of it.

“You left me, Deanie,” Sammy wailed piteously, his voice sounding like he was maybe five years-old. Dean glanced over to find a husband and wife glaring at him with stark disapproval.

“Sam,” he said warningly.

“You WEFT me, Deanie! Why? Why'd you weave? I was scawed, and there was smoke, and I was so very very brave...”

Dean dropped him on the ground in disgust, and the woman gasped in shock. Fucking SAM. When he heard the woman ask for the police because she needed to report domestic abuse, he decided it was time to get the hell out of dodge.

“Get in the fucking car, Sam. We're leaving.” Dean yanked the door open and...he took a deep breath. And then another. There were people around. Witnesses. The police were on their way. Killing Sam now would be a Very Bad Idea.

“Deanie?” Sam asked, his voice wobbling with the effort to keep from laughing. 

With great dignity, Dean sat down on his brand new, right out of the package Hello Kitty seat cover.

And started planning his revenge.

**Author's Note:**

> JE REGRETTE RIEN.


End file.
